


As the Gods Say

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Vocaloid Song, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Post-Canon, spoilers for LL 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: "You're the light that makes everyone shine."Rodimus suddenly remembers someone very important, but will that someone listen to what he, and everyone else, has to say?





	As the Gods Say

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4ko6NBmxrU
> 
> ^ the song that inspired this
> 
> this was partially me getting used to writing the characters, partially assuaging my sadness after the ending of Lost Light

:the reason for the party

 

Rodimus suddenly shot from his captain’s seat, grasping his helm. Bots turned to look at him, though not with too much concern; these kinds of things were commonplace.

“Rung!” he shouted. “Oh my god, Rung!”

Megatron stared at him. “Who?” But the name must have registered in his mind, for his expression fractured and he buried his face in his hands.

Rodimus sprinted down the hall, leaving a crowd of confused bots to understand on their own.

Ultra Magnus eyed him, then turned to Megatron. “I told him the Matrix didn’t reproduce on its own…”

“We forgot him,” Megatron said, dragging his hands down his face. “We couldn’t give him the one thing he asked for in return for his sacrifice.”

“But why are we remembering him now?”

“I imagine that’s what Rodimus has gone off to figure out.”

He burst into Brainstorm’s lab. The engineer turned to him and seemed to be barely concealing his energy.

“It happened to you too?” he asked.

“Why?” Rodimus placed his hands akimbo. “I know why we forgot—he got hit by an evil god’s magic space ray—but why’d we remember now?”

Brainstorm lifted a finger. “Exactly my question! My guess is he’s back. Rung’s come back from whatever place he went to after making the Matrixes.”

Rodimus lit up, but then flickered. “But if another spark signature appeared on the ship, we would have detected it. Maybe we’re remembering because there’s another Rung in this universe…?”

“That’s what I thought too, but look at this!” Brainstorm gestured to a little machine—or something that thought it was a machine—sitting on a desk. It resembled two rings swinging around an invisible point, intersecting and flipping through each other as though they were immaterial.

“Wow. What is it.”

“It detects unlikely events. Just a few minutes ago, the readings spiked. A highly unlikely event has occurred, right inside our ship! And it’s still happening!”

“Can’t he just give himself a new body?” Rodimus asked. “Why all this floating around being ghostly?”

“I don’t usually say this,” Brainstorm said, “but we need more opinions.”

The initial news of Rung’s return had spread throughout the ship. Whirl stepped into _Swerve’s_ , where a large gathering of bots were talking about it. Nobody was paying attention to him, so he walked up to the counter, where Nautica, Roller, and Velocity sat, with Swerve nearby.

“He’s hiding,” Whirl announced.

“Huh?” Nautica looked at him.

“Eyebrows,” Whirl said. Several bots were paying attention to him now, and Swerve even turned the music down—a little. “He’s hiding because we forgot him after he went through all the trouble to save our afts. He’s here but we won’t see him because he wants nothing to do with us.”

Nautica was troubled. “But...but we didn’t mean to! I would never forget him! It was...it was…”

“What that Adaptus guy did, I know. That doesn’t change facts.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” came Rodimus’s voice, as he entered the bar with Brainstorm in tow, “but we _can_ make up for it.”

“We never properly celebrated saving the universe,” Brainstorm said.

“And a treasured crew member is back,” Rodimus continued. “So, we’re throwing a party. A very important party, for an important person.”

A chorus of cheers came from the patrons. Swerve pressed a button, causing colorful lights to drop from the ceiling in a dizzying display.

Rodimus clapped, which, combined with his natural charisma, caused the room’s attention to snap back to him. “We need to do this right, so let’s get ready properly. Operation: Wecome Back Rung will start tonight!”

 

:the planning of the party

 

Whirl: “...Why can’t we have cannons?”

Brainstorm: “Question before I propose my thing: what _isn’t_ allowed?”

Swerve: “And then Rodimus jumps outta the cake—”

Whirl: “We’re trying to get Eyebrows’s attention, aren’t we?! Cannons are the best way to do that!”

Misfire: “We’re sorta new so we don’t know how you guys do things...but we get down with some Shoot Shoot Bang Bang©.”

Brainstorm: “Okay. That’s a really long list. Pretty sure my thing’s on there. I’m just gonna go.”

Ratchet: “Drift, even I think a debate between you and myself on the existence of god would be pretty dull for a party. Also, I’m not sure Rung would appreciate it.”

Rodimus: “And after I jump out of the cake, I’ll have these laser guns—”

Riptide: “Let’s all just yell really loud and maybe he’ll will hear us?”

Ratchet: “I will not ‘livestream’ a surgery!”

Drift: “Then I’m out of ideas.”

 

Ultra Magnus shut off the video player. It had fallen to him to screen everyone’s ideas of what constituted a “good time,” to sort through the dangerous, impossible, and downright illegal scrap to put together something that was both fun and (as) safe (as anything else the Lost Lighters ever did).

Rodimus and Megatron, hearing the silence from his office, entered. “How’s it going?” Rodimus asked.

“It’s difficult,” Magnus said, laying the player on his desk. “Everyone wants something different. Several people want things that aren’t physically possible. I don’t know how to satisfy everyone at once.”

“I was thinking about that,” Rodimus said.

“Oh, Primus…”

“It’d be kind of difficult to get everyone into _Swerve’s_ ,” he went on. “Then it hit me. The party could be in the entire ship.”

“I told him it would be unsafe,” Megatron said.

“Then I said, we could land! There’s an asteroid nearby. We land, power down the more volatile systems, and turn the whole ship into party central. That way, people can split off into smaller groups and do their own thing if they want to.”

Ultra Magnus rubbed his chin. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“See! You need to believe in me more.” Rodimus turned and strutted down the hall. “I’m going to the bridge to make the order, and the announcement.”

When he was gone, Magnus glanced at Megatron. “Bet you one hundred shanix the ship doesn’t survive tonight.”

Megatron chuckled and rested a servo on the armor’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. We literally have a god watching over us.”

 

:the preparations for the party

 

Lights were strewn up around the entire ship. Even if they’d shut the lights off with the other systems, one could see by the many hundreds of bulbs suspended along the walls. Every conceivable color was represented in the display, no place more colorful than the bar and the bridge. The party hadn’t properly started, but bots were starting to break into groups, deciding on their own activities for the night.

Nautica walked towards Brainstorm’s lab. She had just finished stringing up lights around her quarters when her amica called her. When she entered, the room was very dark; only the glow of Brainstorm and Perceptor’s optics were visible.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?”

“Well, I know you’re not a fan of big parties,” Brainstorm said, ambling towards her, “so I thought we could do our own thing, all quiet, no dancing.” Something clicked, and the room brightened.

There were no bulbs, wires, or other conventional devices; the air itself seemed to glow. Some of the spheres were brighter and bigger than others, and some held color; soft and bright reds, pastel purples and pinks, lucious greens and serene blues. As Nautica watched, dozens, perhaps hundreds of orbs came into existence—there were swiftly too many for her to count. Then they began to move, twirling around each other in orbital paths, like the stars in a simulacrum of the universe.

Nautica gave Brainstorm a giddy smile. “Wow! What are those? How’d you do it?”

“Oh, easy,” he replied. “Percy and I rigged up a little machine to store photons in self-contained subspace bubbles located throughout this entire room. With this little remote, I can control the location, size, and even color of the photons, without any extra machinery—the machine makes the light _want_ to be the shape and color it is.”

“Fascinating. Want?”

“An oversimplification.”

Percy rested an elbow on Brainstorm’s shoulder. “Which means he turned it over to me, so he doesn’t know exactly what I did.”

“I know what you did! I could replicate this with my eyes closed!”

“Where are the photons coming from?” Nautica asked, staring up at the mass of light-bubbles again.

“From the lights in the halls,” Perceptor answered.

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to have something generate the photons in this room?”

“That’d ruin the effect,” Brainstorm said.

Nautica hummed. “Not if it generated the photons...without emitting light itself.”

“Sounds improbable. Go on.”

In another part of the ship, Whirl was skulking down the halls with several cans of paint in his arms. He’d taken them from a storage room, not from Ten’s room; he wouldn’t do _that_.

 _Swerve’s_ was thrumming with the usual conversation and activity, but the patrons were slightly more excited than usual. A banner hung over the bar, obviously handwritten, that read “Welcome Back Rung.”

The bar’s operator knelt behind the counter, checking energon reserves. Velocity leaned on the counter, over it so she entered his field of vision.

“So Nautica, Brainstorm, and Perceptor are doing their own thing,” she said. “Something quieter, for the bots that don’t do loud noises or dancing.”

“Oh, okay.” Swerve’s voice was as chipper as ever, but his movements tensed ever so slightly.

Velocity took notice of this, smiling softly. “I’m a people-person, so I’d much rather hang out here! I was just going to bring them some drinks.”

“Oh, okay!” Swerve grinned.

“Seriously, little guy.” She thumped his head. “I love hanging out with both of you.”

“I know, I know.” Swerve lifted a tray full of energon cubes. “I get sensitive sometimes, that’s all. It’s a thing! Here. Tell them it’s half-off, since tonight’s a special occasion.”

Velocity smirked, tilting her head at him.

“Okay, okay! It’s seventy-five percent off.” In actuality, Swerve wasn’t charging anything for the duration of the party.

In the bowels of the ship, in the singular large room the Scavengers shared, the ‘cons were preparing the field for a round of Shoot Shoot Bang Bang©. Furniture was moved and toppled over to create cover.

“I don’t understand the purpose of this game,” Nickel said, eyeing the little blaster Krok gave her. “You guys are terrible at fighting…”

“When we were on the ship by ourselves, it was our principle method of passing time,” Krok said.

“No need to change that,” Fulcrum replied as he tipped a table over on its side.

“You’ll need to do more clean up later,” Nickel remarked.

Misfire, looking stricken, ran straight out of the door.

“What’d I do?”

“Not your fault, Nickel,” Krok said with a shake of his helm. “Misfire is terminally afraid of cleaning.”

Misfire ran through the halls, with an expression like he was being pursued by a monster.

Near Whirl’s quarters, a slender cannon stood in the empty hall. His claws dug around in its innards, making adjustments so it would do what he wished. Paint dripped from his plating and the cannon’s barrel.

“There we go! I sure am glad I had this baby, even if I don’t remember how I got it or if I killed anybody for it! Whatever I did it was worth it.” He patted the barrel fondly. “Now for a test run…”

He levelled the canon at a distant wall. Two other halls intersected this one on the left side; Misfire was running down the nearest one. Cyclonus and Tailgate walked down the farther one, Tailgate happily chattering while Cyclonus supplied his typical perfunctory responses.

  


There was a loud crash, and Misfire suddenly slammed against the wall in front of them, dropping to the floor in a sea of pink. Cyclonus drew his sword and stood in front of Tailgate.

“Oh, frag!” chirped Whirl.

Cyclonus sheathed the blade and stood over Misfire, his expression as funereal as ever. When Tailgate saw the body, he gasped, his optics sparking with panic.

“Oh...oh Primus!”

Whirl came into view. He scratched the top of his helm with a claw. “Where’d he come from…?”

Cyclonus placed one hand on Whirl’s arm, and when the mech turned, he laid his other hand on Whirl’s opposite limb. His gaze was piercing.

“The oil reservoir,” he whispered. “Quickly. We’ll dump the body, we’ll tell the others that he… We’ll think of something. Nobody will know about this unfortunate accident.”

Whirl blinked, then laughed. “Thanks! I’ll call you when I have an actual body to hide. That’s paint, Cy.”

Misfire chose this moment to regain consciousness, groaning and sitting up with a hand on his helm. Tailgate, calmed but still jittery, knelt by him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I think so.” Misfire swung his head around at Whirl. “What was that for?”

“I didn’t know you’d be there! This is your fault!”

“Whirl,” Cyclonus said quietly. “Don’t use pink paint.”

“Got it.”

“It’s almost time for the party to start,” Tailgate said, helping Misfire stand. “I’ll take him to the other Scavengers. You guys go on, I’ll catch up. Brainstorm’s lab, right?”

“Brainstorm?” Whirl cocked his head at Cyclonus.

“He is holding a smaller, quieter gathering for those who aren’t fond of loud music,” Cyclonus said.

“Oh! Pfft! Sounds awful.” Whirl shook his helm and turned away from Cyclonus. He started off down the hall towards his cannon.

“Whirl, may I ask why you have that?”

“You may ask. I may not answer.” Whirl snickered. “I’m kidding. I thought if I kicked up enough of a fuss, Eyebrows would be more likely to show.”

“You are taking this very seriously,” Cyclonus said.

“Well...yeah,” Whirl responded softly, clicking a claw absently. “I gotta run! See ya, or maybe not.” He took off before anything else could be said.

It was going to be an interesting night.

 

:the party

 

An hour after Rodimus had announced the beginning of the Operation: Welcome Back Rung, the bar was roaring with activity. It was the hub of the party, where everyone went to get refreshments. Though splinter groups had turned personal quarters into game rooms and dance floors, everyone ended up at the bar at some point.

Drift was doubled over in his seat from laughter. Ratchet shot him a stern look.

“Just because Rung is Primus doesn’t mean that he’s...supernatural!” The doctor shook his head. “He’s a very old Cybertronian with unique abilities. Not a god.”

“You’re in a veritable black hole of denial,” Drift said, once he got enough control over himself. “Admit it! You were wrong, big time!”

“I will admit that the universe is...more complicated than I—or any of us—could ever comprehend. That doesn’t mean god exists.”

Drift shook his helm, focusing his gaze on his glass of energon. “We’ll ask him, then, when he comes back.”

“If.”

“When! I wanted to ask him so many questions, but everything happened so quickly…”

“I knew Rung for over eight hundred years,” Megatron said wistfully, sitting across from them. “In the Functionist universe. We thought he was dead. Terminus and I saw him fall to the ground, all but torn to pieces. Then he shows up at our base days later, almost fully healed and angrier than a swarm of scraplets. I should have suspected something then, but it didn’t occur to me that he was, ah, more than meets the eye.”

“What happened to him?” Drift asked.

“I _thought_ he died,” Megatron said. “Now I’m wondering if he was just captured or went missing. It brings me some comfort.” He downed the rest of his glass. “I couldn’t stay to help them anymore, after all, so the resistance needs him now more than ever.”

“Couldn’t Brainstorm zap us over there?” Ratchet asked. “If only to check on things?”

“Perhaps…” Megatron frowned. “I’m not sure it would be wise though. Everyone has fought long enough, and just because the Council is gone doesn’t mean there’s peace in the Functionist universe. I could not subject everyone else to yet another war like that.”

Meanwhile, in Brainstorm’s lab, quieter bots were watching scientific documentaries on a large television Brainstorm managed to procure, sitting on the floor since there weren’t enough chairs for everyone.

The door slid open, and Nautica craned her neck to see Velocity enter with another tray of snacks.

“Thought you guys might be running low,” she said.

“Lotty! Stay a sec, this one’s talking about medicine.” The documentary was about space, but was taking a few moments to talk about how surgeries worked in zero gravity.

“Oh, yeah, I had to learn all about that,” Velocity said, sitting the tray down. She stood by the trio. “It was really tricky, heh…”

In the corner, a couple small tables had been set up. Velocity had set the tray down on one of these, and Whirl took the opportunity to grab several glasses for himself.

“Don’t hog it!” Tailgate said.

“I’m a big bot, Legs, I need the fuel.”

“Legs…?”

“I thought this was too quiet for you, Whirl,” Cyclonus said. “What happened to the cannon?”

“I was going to arm the Scavengers with paint guns and lead an assault on Swerve’s, but I realized Eyebrows wasn’t a big fan of noise either.” Whirl studied the glass he carefully held in his claws. “He’s more likely to make his debut in a place like this.”

Cyclonus inclined his head, his voice low. “Whirl, this could take some time. We don’t even know if he can come back.”

“He’s god! How can he not come back?” Whirl’s claws clacked together. “Just because we forgot him...I mean, if it were me I’d say frag it, frag everybody, but Rung’s not me.”

“What Cyclonus means,” Tailgate said, wringing his hands, “is don’t be sad if he doesn’t show up tonight. He’s okay, and we remember him, which counts for something.”

Cyclonus nodded.

“Eh…” Whirl stood and turned to the door. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

Velocity came over just as he left the room. “Hey! There’s nothing here left! There’s a whole other table of bots over there.”

“Sorry,” Tailgate said.

Cyclonus let out a brief chuckle. “It was Whirl.”

“Where’d he go?”

The purple and white bots shared a look. “I think I know,” Cyclonus said.

 

:Whirl

 

The door opened, and Whirl stepped inside. He clacked his claws against the wall for the light switch. They were so disused that it took a second for them to come online. His room hadn’t changed, besides the pervasive emptiness.

“Hey, doc,” Whirl said, sliding into a familiar chair. “I dunno if you’re listening, but I just wanna say thanks. For everything. When I got on this ship I was—well, not the best bot. I’m still not, but I’m better. You helped me realize I could be more than what they did to me.” He gazed down at a claw. “And you—you’re more than what you are, too. If you think we don’t need you anymore, because you fulfilled your purpose or whatever, you’re wrong. Your purpose is being our friend. _My_ friend.”

Whirl shut his optic for a long moment. When he looked up, the room was still empty, and he sighed. “I don’t even know if you can hear anything wherever you are. Well, I did all I could. Guess I’ll go—hmm. I was gonna say destroy something, but you’d frown at that. You’d say it was an ‘unhealthy coping mechanism.’ So you know what? I’m actually gonna go make another clock.” He exited, leaving the lights on.

 

:Nautica

 

“Hey, Rung?” Nautica laughed nervously as she entered the office. “They told me Whirl came here. I guess to talk to you. It makes sense. More sense than a party, really…” She sat down. “I think Rodimus just likes parties. Not that you don’t deserve one! We all deserve a big celebration. Saving the universe and all. Ahh, Nautica, what are you saying? Why’d you even come here?” Her voice had grown small.

She shook her helm. “M-my point is, I just wanted to let you know, I’m still your amica, and I hope you’re still mine too. Imagine finding out your amica is Primus himself!”

For several minutes she sat in silence, glancing around at various fixtures—the empty seat, the models, the window. Then she stood and stretched. “Good night, Rung. The party’s almost over, which means it’s clean up time…”

 

:Megatron

 

He stood with his arms folded behind his back, smiling. “Knowing you’re alive is enough, if you want that,” he said. “Take your time. We’re here for you.”

 

:Rodimus

 

“So I gave everyone this rousing speech and they opened all the Matrixes!” He was grinning his biggest, most charismatic grin. “And that’s what happened! You probably already knew that, but telling a story is a different experience from living through it. Reality doesn’t embellish.” As evidenced by there being ten times the amount of explosions in his story.

“Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the party! If you could even, uh, sense it from where you are. Should I tell you about it, just in case? Okay, so, I’m on the bridge when all of a sudden I realize I remember you…”

 

:Swerve

 

After Rodimus, Swerve talked as though trying to outdo the captain. In the end, Velocity had to drag him from the room, demanding he help with the clean-up.

 

:Ratchet and Drift

 

“This is ridiculous,” Ratchet said while fighting a grin. “He’d be just as likely to hear us anywhere as much as here.”

Drift animatedly gestured to the room. “But it’s symbolic!”

Ratchet sighed and leaned against Drift’s side. “You do love your symbolism…”

“Rung! Primus! Whatever it is you wish to be called…” Drift looked happier than he’d ever been. “I can’t wait to talk to you face-to-face! There’s so much I want to ask you! Also I bet Ratchet five shanix that you can tell us about the afterlife.”

Ratchet laughed. “You’re going to scare him away, dear.”

 

:after the party

 

Bots were still laughing and playing throughout the ship, but things were winding down. Crews were taking down the lights, and some had already gone to recharge.

Brainstorm and Perceptor were chatting about their latest invention, tweaking with the controls to make the lights do all sorts of interesting things. In the corner, Tailgate had fallen asleep and slumped onto Cyclonus’s lap, who stayed very still with a hand resting on the smaller mech’s helm. He would probably fall asleep like that too, and Brainstorm and Perceptor were not likely to notice, too absorbed in one another.

The atmosphere was subdued in _Swerve’s_. Rodimus was trying to keep spirits up, talking about where they were going, and what wonders this new universe might hold. “We’ll shove off in the morning,” he said. “Get to that planet we spotted when we first got to this universe, see what this place is all about!”

Megatron pulled a face as he prodded a foot against a mech slumped on the floor. Riptide groaned and flipped over, shielding his optics from the lights with his arms.

“Med bay for you, friend,” Megatron said, pulling Riptide to his feet. “Looks like you had too good of a night.”

The silver mech escorted Riptide to the med bay, then returned to the bar to continue the clean up. It would take a while to get the bar looking normal again.

Elsewhere, the Scavengers were collapsed in a big pile, already fast asleep and surrounded by the detritus of their game. Nickel stood in the doorway, but smiled softly at them and left the mess alone. Drift and Ratchet were ambling down a hall, taking down decorations, talking aimlessly. First Aid was trying not to laugh as Riptide described his drunken exploits. Velocity and Swerve stopped outside of his room and hugged.

The Lost Light grew darker and quieter. Everybody had smiled or laughed at some point, and everybody had spoken of Rung—the absentee guest of honor, who was not seen but felt, and heard, and _known_. Remembered.

It _was_ a good night.

Every point of observation collapsed together, drawn into a single space. It was dark and the feeling of physicality was foreign. I flexed my servos, getting used to them again. I focused on the warmth in my body, the way the air caressed my plating, what it was like to hear sound with my audials instead of simply knowing it, as I had moments ago.

I opened my optics and looked around at my home. My ships were pristine; I stepped to the shelf and ran a servo down the _Lost Light_ , my personal favorite.

From my now-lost omnipresence, I knew the path to _Swerve’s_ was clear. There were a few specific bots I wanted to see first. I walked briskly through the halls, but stopped in front of the closed bar. Even now, after everything, I hesitated.

I laughed quietly. Everyone thought I was a god, and yet…

The door slid open at my touch. The bots that had been looking in my direction stopped what they were doing. Optics were sparking, mouths were agape; it made me feel self-conscious, thinking I had such an effect on people, so I focused on a few specific bots to distract myself.

Nautica squealed, bounding forward and sweeping me into her arms. She spun around, holding me by my waist. “It’s you! It’s really you!” To my surprise, she kissed me on the cheek.

Rodimus burst into laughter. “Someone call Whirl! Someone call _everybody_!”

Megatron’s face was still, as though he wouldn’t, couldn’t let himself hope. As soon as Nautica sat me down, he moved forward, tentatively raising his arms. I stuck out my own, knowing he was the type of bot who needed an invitation. He knelt and carefully hugged me, always mindful of his strength. His arms were very tight around me but not uncomfortably so. Megatron hugged like he was trying to put you back together.

He withdrew, and it was Rodimus’s turn next, I guess because Rodimus never liked to miss out on things.

“Where’d you even go?” the red captain asked after releasing me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It was like I could see everything happening at once. Do you remember Swearth? Reading those comics? It was sort of like that. It was very strange.”

“I bet you’re tired,” Nautica said. “Do gods even get tired?”

I shift around. “Ah, I don’t like to think of myself as a god.”

“Don’t tell Drift,” Rodimus chuckled.

“But yes, I’m rather tired.”

“We can talk more tomorrow,” Megatron said.

Thoughts of rest were interrupted by loud clacking coming down the hall. Whirl appeared in the doorframe and leapt from the entrance, shouting “EYEBROWS!” as he sailed through the air. He shook the floor with his landing and I braced myself for another rough hug—he placed his claws on my shoulders and knocked our helms together, his optic curved upward.

“Whirl,” I laughed, absently touching my forehead. It didn’t hurt, but all this affection was something to get used to. “I heard what you said. All of you. I heard everything you’ve said all day.”

“Hear any murder confessions?” Ultra Magnus asked, stepping inside. I might have thought he was being serious, but he smiled. “Welcome back. I hope the festivities were to your liking.”

Emotion swelled within me, so that for a moment I felt like bursting. “It was perfect.” Tears pricked at my optics—that was bound to happen sooner or later. “Whirl, you were right.”

“Of course I was right.” He blinked. “About what?”

“You speculated that I might feel like I was no longer needed. I did. I figured, since my purpose is to create Matrixes, why should I come back unless I was needed? Then you said my purpose is to be everyone’s friend. You were right about that, Whirl. Thank you. Thank you, to everyone…”

The look Megatron gave me was sad. “You know, your Functionist universe counterpart rejected the Council’s philosophy completely. Defying him was his reason for existence.”

“Functionist?” I stared at him.

“I feel like part of you still believes it,” Megatron went on softly.

I cringed. “They are a lingering influence, yes.”

“See, I told you he could do it,” Drift said. He and Ratchet stood at the door. “I want to ask you so many questions, but I won’t.”

I nodded. “I don’t feel like sharing anything right now. It’s a lot to process. Call me whatever you wish, but I don’t feel like a god. I feel like a regular bot who’s been overwhelmed by—by everything.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Do you feel all right?” Ratchet asked.

“Never better, doctor.” I stifled a yawn. “Well, I’ve felt less sleepy.”

Whirl started gesturing to the door. “C’mon guys, let’s leave him be.”

“Actually—” The force of my fear startled me. “Actually I don’t want to be alone right now, please.”

Rodimus looked at me, then the rest of the group. “We only have one choice, then.” He clenched his fist and smiled wide. “Sleepover!”

There was a second where everybody looked at him, then at me. “Would that be okay, Rung?” Nautica asked.

I would never grow tired of hearing my name. “Yes, that would be fantastic. Thank you. I appreciate this—going out the way for me. I hope I haven’t—”

Whirl waggled a claw. “If you say ‘inconvenienced anyone with my godly shenanigans’ I will be cross.”

I laughed so hard my optics shut involuntarily. When I opened them again, my vision was blurry. I removed my goggles and wiped at my tears, shuddering hard.

“Rung? You okay?” Rodimus asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m just so happy to be back.”

**Author's Note:**

> i would have liked to include everyone but my brain literally couldn't have handled it so i apologize that some characters just aren't there


End file.
